


Gemini

by lackluster_wonder



Series: Future Pleasures [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Arafinwë being precious and a typical snoopy younger sibling, Ass Play, Author Is Sleep Deprived, But Also Regrets Nothing, Coming of Age, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Crossdressing Kink, Elven Wine, First Time Blow Jobs, Genderplay, Half-Sibling Incest, Honey Cakes, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Multi, Nipple Play, Rimming, Rutting, Self-Lubrication, Sexual Tension, Sibling Rivalry, The Author Regrets Everything, Underwear Kink, non-standard elf biology, Ñolvo's derriere bring the elves to the yard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-23 19:06:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8339239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lackluster_wonder/pseuds/lackluster_wonder
Summary: For the Merry is Maytime 2016 prompt: "Knowing that Fëanor likes it when he dresses up in women's clothes, Fingolfin gets ready to meet his brother, but can't seem to keep his hands off himself in the meantime. Fëanor finds him half-dressed and touching himself, splayed out on the bed, and immediately pounces him."--  “Let me stay with you,” he whispered, but it was a demand more than a plea.  Fëanáro's chuckled softly, his breath now cool against Ñolofinwë's skin. “Don't you know me? Now that I know I can have you, I will never let you go.” Expanding the prompt fill with an actual plot inspired from "June Bride" by Memaizaka (excerpt from her piece, quoted above.)Could also be read as a standalone! --Alpha: lackluster_wonderBeta: amyfortuna





	1. Prologue: Waiting for Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [uumuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumuu/gifts).
  * Inspired by [June Bride](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6767551) by [uumuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumuu/pseuds/uumuu). 
  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [merryismaytime2016](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/merryismaytime2016) collection. 



> **For the prompt:** _Knowing that Fëanor likes it when he dresses up in women's clothes, Fingolfin gets ready to meet his brother, but can't seem to keep his hands off himself in the meantime. Fëanor finds him half-dressed and touching himself, splayed out on the bed, and immediately pounces him._
> 
> Crossdressing kink is my kryptonite, anon! I have been stalking silm stuff for a year now and I didn’t start contributing until a year later (a gift fic for a fan art) and then this, I also added the element of masquerade parties just because ;) 
> 
> It’s really going to be a pwp, but i think plot happened when it involves my favorite kink XD
> 
> Thanks to amyfortuna for the beta! 
> 
>  
> 
> I drew inspiration from Memaizaka’s ‘June Bride’ whom I asked permission if I can make a loosely-based sequel of her work for this prompt.

 

 

_“Let me stay with you,” he whispered, but it was a demand more than a plea._

_Fëanáro's chuckled softly, his breath now cool against Ñolofinwë's skin._

 

_“Don't you know me? Now that I know I can have you, I will never let you go.”_

\--

 

The words were whispered to him like a promise.

 

It had been five years since that fateful encounter. The anticipation for this evening to finally arrive seemed to make the few years feel like decades, and Ñolofinwë has done his waiting.

Today marked his coming of age, and a week-long celebration was being held in his honor. He could care less about the preparations, and having to go through the felicitations.  Half of the visiting delegations he was not even familiar with. He was so distracted that his mother scolded him for being so absent-minded.

In his defense, Ñolofinwë was not particularly thrilled to be introduced to noble-born elf maidens; he has had all the time he needs to consider and to decide when to pursue a relationship. He however has other plans for the evening: he requested specifically that they have a masquerade theme for his coming of age festivities, so he could easily seek out Fëanáro _._ As he mulled things over, he purloined a slim bottle of fruit wine from the kitchens and tried to move around inconspicuously, taking quick sips from it as he avoided the crowd, dodging a few familiar faces, wanting to be left alone. For now, his anticipation was focused on Fëanáro's arrival. He promised he would arrive during the festivities but at a later hour, but as Ñolofinwë was not sure on the details it leaves him no choice but to ask his father. Finwë took one look on the bottle in his hand and the frown on his face and assured him with a smile that his half-brother would not stir up any trouble for his begetting day and would most likely arrive during the late hours of the evening. 

Ñolofinwë cringed at the memory as he nodded and walked away towards the gardens, recalling the controversy surrounding his nephew's endorsed father-name, bringing up the issue of succession and other sensitive matters to the surface. Their indifference and the tension with each other at the court at that time was so palpable that Ñolofinwë had to wait it out for _weeks._ Using a celebration as an excuse to go out, and knowing Fëanáro would leave again in a week's time, he decided to seek out his half-brother personally so they could have a conversation with each other in private, something they could not afford at the restrictive confines of the court.

That was where their games began.

 

Ñolofinwë needed a disguise to sneak out the palace and blend into the throng of other revelers, and the only items he had on hand at the time were the dresses he had never returned to his older sister and the cosmetics he filched from her ladies in waiting. He wore them and managed to slip past the guards, and into his half-brother’s place and his workshop, where he mostly worked until dawn. He felt sure his Fëanáro would either laugh at his pathetic attempt or be impressed at his daring and would then have him thrown out.

Instead, he found himself at Fëanáro's sleeping quarters, thrown on the bed with his skirts pushed up to his waist, legs splayed wide open with Fëanáro's head at his crotch, taking him in his mouth for the first time. He came embarrassingly quickly, and had to bite himself on the arm to muffle his own cries lest a few of Fëanáro's apprentices hear them from outside. As he came down from the unexpected lightheadedness brought by his orgasm, Ñolofinwë all but completely forgot his plans, but Fëanáro did not.

He knew his little brother--a term of acknowledgement he refused to say when they are _in public_ or at the palace grounds--would not be able to resist approaching him in private and trying to discuss things. He was disappointed that it took him so long to make his move.

 

“You weren't exactly being pleasant at that time either,” he groused. He felt he might have looked kind of silly: with a pout on his face and a smudged lip tint where Fëanáro kissed him hard. “Does that mean things will change between us now?”

“It has been _changed_ for sometime now, Nolo.” Fëanáro shuffled back and sat on his haunches, but his hands still lingered and held Ñolofinwë's thighs wide open. He shivered as the cool air whiffed between his legs. “--or do you not remember the night you approached me?”

“I--” Ñolofinwë blushed hotly, feeling Fëanáro kneel forward, running his coarse fingers idly over his inner thighs. “I never really thought you were serious.”

“I never take back my word once I make up my mind,” Fëanáro replied, and his hands dipped at each side of his crotch. “What happens outside and what happens between us in private, are and would _always_ be two different things.”

“Have you forgotten that you have a wife, and a _son_? ” He lifted himself up with his elbows, and much to his chagrin, Fëanáro still continued to palm and pet his thighs. “What we have right now, won’t it be...betrayal?”

“I am not replacing my love for my wife and child for that of another,” he murmured, finally releasing Ñolofinwë’s legs. “The circumstances we have...are different. You are also not a woman.”

“Yet you seem to like the idea of me wearing female clothes.” He jerked in surprise when Fëanáro slipped a hand underneath his blouse, reaching for a pebbled nipple. He squirmed. “Stop pinching me there, ahh--it hurts.”

“No, little brother _, you_ like the idea of wearing them.” Fëanáro corrected him, peeling the rest of the top away so he could roam both of his hands over his chest, feeling him tremble at his touch as he caressed his warmth, rubbing at his now hardened nubs playfully. “You went through all this trouble, when you could just borrow a servant's garb and be done with it. You even find the time to _wear_ some face make-up. You are making it easier and far more tempting for me to have you.”

“Will you still have me?” Ñolofinwë murmured. The heat coursing from his cheeks won't seem to die down.

“No,” Fëanáro smirked as Ñolofinwë gave him a half-annoyed glare and then slapped his cock lightly. He yelped. “Not _yet_. You are still not of age, you still have some growing up to do--” he pinched and rubbed his foreskin between his fingertips and Ñolofinwë had to bat his hand away this time,  “--although some parts of you seem to have already ripened.”

“Then stop teasing if you are not going to have me now.”

“Don’t be unimaginative.” Fëanáro replied, straddling him, and Ñolofinwë inhaled sharply when he realized what his half brother was about to do when he started unlacing his breeches. “Just because I cannot have you right now does not mean I could not get you off in other ways, and I could teach you….”  Fëanáro tapped his chin, and Ñolofinwë clapped his mouth shut, realizing he was gawking at his erection. “Now, would you want to return the favor?”

He took Fëanáro in his mouth for the first time that night, and he turns a little red whenever he remembers it. He never told him he has little to no experience when it comes to the pleasures of the flesh, or pleasing _someone_ else. What he knows came from reading forbidden materials in the restricted section in the library or eavesdropping on the guards when they have been too much in their cups. But it seems Fëanáro won’t mind his inexperience-- rather, he seems to have an unusual amount of patience for it.

 

“Ñolvo.”

Ñolofinwë almost jumped, immediately pulled back from the haze of his memory and to the present when his younger brother tugged at the sleeve of his robe. He hadn’t even sensed he was in close proximity. Arafinwë had yet to reach his growth spurt, but his head had already reached his shoulder and he would soon match him in height.

“Where are you going?” he asked. “The feast is that way.”

“I..need to retire early, I am not feeling quite well.”

“You have been drinking.”

“Yes, and I can because I am of age _now_. I talked with father and he didn’t mind,” he grumbled, rubbing his temples. “Can you inform mother that I won’t be joining everyone at the table tonight? I am sorry but I think I cannot stay any longer.”

He didn't wait for his brother to reply. Ñolofinwë swiftly turned around, bottle still in hand, to head towards his rooms. His anticipation had honed his focus so that nothing else around him matters. Ignoring well-wishers, guests and servants, he made his way through the vast corridors, and to the antechamber, where his presents were starting to pile up. Giving strict instructions to the guards that no one, even his family, should be allowed to disturb him, he finally reached his main chambers, bolting the locks of the doors shut.

As soon as he did, he leaned back against the door, and with a long sigh, slid down to the carpeted floor.

  
“Well then, it’s time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is inspired by a popular J.Lo song of the same name.


	2. 01. Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ñolofinwë takes on an elaborate disguise as he seeks out his half-brother amid the festivities, and getting more than what he bargained for.

Ñolofinwë looked at his bottle. It was already more than half-way empty, and he was starting to feel the more agreeable aftereffects of the liquor. The dull throbbing of his head had subsided, giving way to a pleasant tingly warm sensation all over his body. He started to loosen his robes and remove his jewelry, placing them and the bottle on a nearby round end table. Kicking off his soft-soled shoes, he headed for the windows and started drawing the curtains down. Once done, he unscreened all the lamps the servants lit earlier and double-checked the bolts at the doors, making sure they are locked.

Confident that no one now can intrude on his privacy, Ñolofinwë took a deep breath and started to casually strip the rest of his clothes off, stepping out and folding them neatly near the foot of his bed. He then walked towards his floor mirror, to look over his naked form appreciatively from head to toe.

He has never felt so proud. In a few years’ space, he filled out handsomely and developed a lean and toned musculature thanks to his active lifestyle, mostly by getting involved in athletics and joining hunting parties. It is also worth noting that Fëanáro was able to predict he would grow to be tall -- he has already surpassed him in height, almost half a foot taller and most likely to still continue growing.

He looked lower. He has developed a fine narrow waist...or maybe it’s just his behind. He tried looking over his shoulder, frowning; he always find it too curved for his liking, and he is glad for the robes he wears that cover it: it seems a bit big-- just like his cock. He turned back and looked at the mirror and then between his legs, feeling a little hot and embarrassed as he remembered the look of ravenous hunger on Fëanáro's face every time he sees it out of his underpants. It is proportional to his size, if not a little thicker.

  
_Not the time_ , he scolded himself when he felt his cock twitch. He spun around towards his bed to reach for a slim clothing chest underneath. Opening it, he removed the secret compartment that contains mostly hunting gear to reveal the contents at the bottom.

If his face felt hot earlier, now it's burning. Hidden beneath the chest are assorted female clothing and accessories he has accumulated in secret: After the incident in Fëanáro’s workshop yielded a very _positive_ response, Ñolofinwë decided that for any rendezvous with him he would have to dress up as a female. It also doubles as an effective disguise, allowing him to slip off the palace grounds and blend in with the ladies leaving the court.

 _What happens outside and what happens between us in private, are and shall always be two different things_. Ñolofinwë would like to think that his half-brother might just have a strange fetish and preferred not to be reminded of the young prince of the court when he sees him in skirts, but if that is the case he would not be constantly murmuring brotherly endearments in his ear every time they bring each other pleasure.

He once teased that Fëanáro would never probably be as passionate if he was dressed in his usual robes, and underestimated his response; he was effectively caught by surprise during Arafinwë’s begetting day celebration a year ago, pulled aside and dragged underneath one of the palace’s main garden’s balustrades. He was already shamefully hard when he was wrenched out of his robes, hair mussed from being roughly pulled and his naked body littered with red kiss-bites. His knees were painfully scraped on the cobblestones, before being roughly pushed down. It did not help that the guards made constant rounds of the area, and he could have been caught any minute should he make any loud noises.

That night to his horror, he found the thrill of being caught _turns him on_. He could have pulled his half-brother away and hidden under a shrub or in a nearby broom closet. But he let Fëanáro rut between his cheeks, coming against the small of his back, while he came with his cock untouched, spraying his release on the ground.

He spent most of the week after that re-assuring his family that he lost his footing on the stairs, to explain the bruises and scratches on his knees and arms, and the torn parts of his robes. He also avoided his half-brother out of shame and embarrassment, (though he happened to be also staying at the palace for a few weeks), fueling the rumors of their rivalry even more. After that, Ñolofinwë didn’t try to challenge or question Fëanáro’s ardour ever again.

 ---

He frowned as he sifted through the assortment of colored fabrics. Selecting which clothes to wear and how to match them proved to be a difficult process, even though he only has a few. (He, now, understands the difficulty his mother and sister’s ladies in waiting have to endure preparing their outfits every day and would never make fun of them about it ever again.)

After one embarrassing incident where he was almost caught by his younger siblings, Ñolofinwë decided he should stop sneaking in his older sister’s wardrobe closet. He could filch  other accessories that would be easy to miss, like make-up (they have created so _many_ shades for lip tints and eye-color, he could not understand what they were all for. But at least the lip tints had flavors), veils, and hair clips. Procuring dresses, especially for his size, proves to be a challenge. In the end, Ñolofinwë decided to bribe one of his younger brother’s tutors to purchase some dresses for him, giving her a hefty sum and free rein of choice, with an alibi that they would be surprise presents for a lady he is courting in secret.

Ñolofinwë ended up with about a dozen dresses of different kinds, to his relief, nothing too revealing and all of them things he could easily adjust for size with basic sewing. Some of them even came with sets of delicate lace undergarments that made him go red to the tip of his ears; he has yet to wear them.

The thought of wearing the racy undergarments for his half-brother’s pleasure made him shudder and goosebumps rose on his skin so that he had to shake himself back to the task at hand. He forewent the colors that would most likely be associated with him, setting aside the pale-blues, whites and silvers and crinkled his nose as he pulled out a coral pink fabric with lilac and beige accents. It would go well with the gold trinkets that Fëanáro made him throughout the years, and sent to him discreetly, along with hidden notes of their next rendezvous.

  
He straightened up, pulling the item completely out of the chest and shook it out to inspect it. It was a draping dress with near diaphanous cascading cape sleeves and peek-a-boo holes on each shoulder, perfect to disguise his toned arms but also providing a subtle tease on the soft curve of his shoulders to the appreciative eye. He bent over and rummaged for other items, the mask he would wear for the evening, a simple veil with a bejeweled clip, the most plain silk underwear he could find -- as he could not wear any of his underpants without bunching up -- and a small box containing assorted hair styling materials and face make-up.   

 _I can't believe I am doing this,_ he said to himself, wondering at the lengths he has gone through for his trysts with Fëanáro, skills that he was unsure he should be even proud of -- something he was certain his family should _never_ ever know. He lightly dusted some powder to his face and chest, and sneezed, inwardly cursing at the tedious and meticulous process of make-up application. He tried to observe the ladies in court as subtly as possible when he can, and mimic how they wear them. He could now draw kohl lines on his eyelids without looking like an odd night creature, and proceeded to carefully dab on some gold shimmer eye shadow, a little at a time so not to overdo it. He also tended to his eyelashes and eyebrows to make them more shapely and pronounced, and applied tint on his lips -- his favorite, the one that tastes like berries, and skipped applying cheek blush: his eyes looked more emphasized now with the make-up and he has seen some women skipping the blush to avoid looking overdone. He started to scrunch up his hair with the hair creams and oils he found that his sister was supposed to discard, giving his pin-straight hair more waves and volume.

Once satisfied, he loosely bound his hair up with a few clips and bodkins, allowing a few locks to fall over his shoulders and the sides of his face. Still naked, he stood up and reached for the underwear, feeling a bit wary, he slipped it on and was surprised how it rested nicely on his hips and the fact it did not tear despite the size of his cock. It was strangely comfortable, the material cool and smooth against his skin. He stepped into a pair of cream colored soft soled shoes and slipped on the dress from underneath, struggled with the clasps briefly at the back, before turning around to face the floor mirror from behind him.

He definitely wouldn’t need any blush, as his cheeks tinted at the unrecognizable sight before him. A part of him is mortified at what he is willing to go through for his half-brother’s attentions and a part of him is proud that with just a little more refinement in styling, he could surpass his older sister in style and beauty.

He frowned when he noticed the cut on the bosom area easily give way to his obviously flat chest. He pursued his wardrobe drawers and pulled out two sashes he hadn’t used for a while and carefully folded and stuffed them against his chest, shaping them to a proper fit. When that was done, he straightened his fingers nervously at his lap, and padded back towards his dresser for the box where he kept the specific trinkets Fëanáro has gifted him through the years. He will never wear them in public and thus no one will recognize them. He selected a pearl necklace with red teardrop garnet accents that Fëanáro would surely recognize as his work and some gold arm bangles, and then carefully placed the veil around his head.

Ñolofinwë breathed in deeply, and let out a loud shaky exhale, double-checking his look at the mirror one more time. No one he knew  would recognize his form tonight, dressed as he was in a young lady’s finery. The mask sealed the deal, assuring that no one even in his family would recognize him. 

His room is still messy, and Ñolofinwë noted he would have to clean it up later before Fëanáro arrives. He was about to take a wide step forward when he quickly reminded himself he was wearing a slightly fitted dress that _might_ tear, and proceeded to mimic a more conservative and feminine walk. It was a slower pace than he was accustomed to, as he made his way to a small wall on the far right corner of his room, pushing away the blue and silver tapestry from it to reveal a tall narrow door that leads to a secret path to the palace's main gardens. Everyone in the royal family has secret entrance/exits from their chambers, and Ñolofinwë has never been so thankful for it.

His secret path was not so far from where the celebration was being held, and he sighed in relief at the whiff of fresh evening breeze when he slipped out the door, thankful that most of the revelers were at the main grounds, feasting, and a merry tune in the air indicated that the dancing was just about to begin.

\---

Ñolofinwë secured his mask, a red and gold ornate leather owl mask with beadwork and metal filigree. It had wide holes around the eyes, enough to show the effort on his eye make-up, but obscured almost everything from above his mouth. He made his way until he reached the nearest fountain, where food was being served on one of the many long luxury buffet tables. He was famished, having had only wine and a few finger foods before he retired to his room earlier. He restrained the urge to wolf down the serving on his plate, eating in small mouthfuls, trying not to get his lip tint smeared while he slowly moved around.

Ñolofinwë took his time to observe his surroundings as he ate, belatedly realizing that his height made him almost a head taller than most women. It works to his advantage, as most men seem either intimidated or hesitant to approach him for a conversation or a dance... _at first_. He has seen some looks thrown his way, whether it was ogling at his fake bosom or his behind (the cut of the gown seems to unfortunately accentuate its shape, he realized) and as the night wore on, and drinks started to flow, some became more brazen.

  
The evening started to grow warm, and he had to remove his veil, looping it loosely on both arms like a makeshift shawl. Those who did approach to start a conversation can't seem to keep their hands to themselves: a simple touch to the wrist would linger and trail to his arm and clasp his elbow. Others who are daring enough would press closer and place a hand on his hip, and from there tentatively try to slip it on his rump. Ñolofinwë managed to always pull back, trying to mask his discomfort and irritation by eliciting a fake laugh-- he managed to pitch his voice higher to a believable alto-- and try to rein in the urge to twist their arm and throw them to the ground. Most of them he recognized to be the sons of those who work in the royal court, some of which he has sparred with on the practice grounds or share classes with. He mentally noted who they were so he could exact retribution on them in due time.

The disguise is working a little too well, he thought warily, and strained his ears to listen to any gossip and conversation bearing any news of his half-brother's arrival. There was none so far, and just when he thought the attention he was getting couldn't get any worse, there were also some he recognized from his _father’s council._

They were as old as his father, or probably even _older_ , and he frowned when one of them seemed to hover around his direction dressed in a theme that was a tribute to Manwe, if the simple eagle mask was enough to go by. Ñolofinwë was already tempted to step on the foot of an insistent young bard who was trying to impress him but couldn’t stop touching his hip, when the lurker made his made his way towards him, smoothly enveloping one arm around his waist and effectively pulling him away, leaving a few words to the befuddled elf.

 ---

“Let go of me,” he hissed, trying to push him away but the grip held tight. He was a good few inches taller than him and broader, with or without the costumed outfit. Ñolofinwë was dragged not too far from the festivities, but just enough that they were isolated and far from the crowd and curious eyes. He was taken to a more secluded area by the enclosed courtyard, climbing vines and plants crawling the walls, a long marble bench pressed against it, almost hidden. There was a fountain in front of them, with ornate statues holding low-light lamps, giving some light to the dim area.

The hold on his hip relaxed, and Ñolofinwë quickly disengaged himself, turning to face the other costumed individual furiously,  fists balled.

“What is your problem?” he snarled, trying to retain the pitch of his voice, but to his surprise, the other individual simply sat down by the fountain and patted the space beside him.

“I noticed the young ones are giving you a rather difficult time, I thought you might need a.. distraction,” he said in a deep rich sonorous voice, which Ñolofinwë could not place. “I had to pull you out there quick, it looked like you were close to throwing the poor lad on his back.”

“I could do more than that,” he grumbled, and tentatively stepped forward, before finally sitting down beside him. Much to his annoyance, his legs felt wrapped tight by the skirts, he couldn’t move properly, and was all but brushing elbows with the older elf. Ñolofinwë folded his arms loosely across his belly, accidentally bunching the stuffings on his chest, making his bosom more pronounced.

“Of course you could,” his mysterious companion agreed, observing his fidgeting, the bangles creating a faint tinkling sound. “With that height, you are...taller than most women who attended the celebration.”

“Well, I am not most _women_ ,” he retorted, jerking in surprise when he felt a hand snake itself around his waist again, pressing close to him. He was about to push himself away, but his body betrayed him with a shudder, feeling goosebumps rise on his skin when a thumb starts to rub in firm circular motions on the sharp jut of his hip. He did not even know he had a sensitive spot there.

“Yes, you certainly are not,” his companion all but purred, noticing Ñolofinwë’s sensitive reaction to his touch. “I have never seen you at these celebrations, I assume you are new here.”

 _Be calm, at least his hand does not wander anywhere else_ , Ñolofinwë thought uncomfortably. He is curious as to where the conversation might lead: the old elf was obviously smitten and seemingly insistent that they talk. If he wanted to make a break for it, he could always jab him with his elbow--or butt him with his head.

“I am.” He managed to reply, forcing a small smile on his lips. “I don't usually fancy celebrations, so I rarely attend. They are..tedious.” The fine hair on his neck prickled, as he felt a puff of warm breath on the back of his nape. He inhaled sharply. “I am an acquaintance of the high prince, and I was personally invited to his coming of age celebration, so I made an exception.”

That seemed not to deter his companion, to say the least, and Ñolofinwë swore he could feel his nose nuzzle on his hair. “He also would not tolerate what you are doing,” he breathed, and let out a yelp when he felt a kiss press on the back of his ear.

“That is not what the _crown_ prince said,” his companion whispered, and it made Ñolofinwë freeze for a moment so that he almost didn’t feel the light nibble on his ear tip. “You are waiting for him to arrive, so I came here to fetch you...” he wasn't able to finish his sentence, letting out a surprised cry when Ñolofinwë jabbed him hard with his elbow, making him fall back with a splash into the fountain.

“It is the truth!” he sputtered, pushing himself up from the fortunately shallow depth of the fountain. “He specifically requested that I watch over you until he arrives.”

“What else did my--” Ñolofinwë almost made the slip of calling Fëanáro his _brother_ ; he reached for a bodkin and turned to press it at the other elf's throat. “What else did he tell you?”  
  
“Nothing much of import, he told me to look out for a rather tall maiden, bearing a red owl mask and his handiwork. A necklace.” The older elf wrung the dripping water from his robes and hair, but Ñolofinwë still kept the long pin pointed in his direction. The gaze dropped to his neck and two long fingers lifted to inspect the necklace. Ñolofinwë batted his hand away (deep inside though, he let out a sigh of relief, his secret and his identity is still safe). The old fool is telling the truth: Fëanáro himself personally crafted the jewelry for him and no one else has seen it save for the two of them.

A smile then curved on those thin lips, as if the initial surprise have worn off the threat. “He was right, you are a fiery one, but always too hesitant to act.”

“--and you are an old pervert,” he snapped, pointing the bodkin closer. Ñolofinwë smiled when he recognized the perplexed look in his eyes. “That is right, I think I actually _do_ recognize you from someone at the court, you won’t be familiar or acquainted with the crown prince if you are not. If you happen to be an apprentice, you will not be able to afford such opulent robes. You could be my elder for all I know.” When he didn’t respond, Ñolofinwë asked. “Did the crown prince say anything about you having to touch me?”

“No, he didn't,” the older elf answered,  snatching the bodkin swiftly from his hand, catching Ñolofinwë by surprise. He then clipped it back in his hair, taking advantage of his stunned reaction. _He even has the gall to be amused._ “You are right, I _might_ be your elder. But that doesn't mean I no longer... feel certain desires.” He reached out to tip up his chin, and Ñolofinwë sharply turned his face away. “You are rather unusual in looks and yet, there is something about you that is irresistible.”

“Am I supposed to take that as a compliment then?” he grumbled, keeping his gaze away, arms folded on his chest. He couldn’t believe his cheeks were starting to heat after a mere compliment, _just like a blushing maiden._

“Yes, I could just imagine why the crown prince is so taken with you.”

“He is married and we are not romantically involved.” It is beyond complicated, he wanted to say. Stating it firmly, he swiftly took a few steps back, before his companion could try to touch him again. He almost leapt when a series of bright and rapid explosion of lights burst and colored the night sky.

“Fireworks,” his companion answered for him, straightening up beside him. “It his new invention, lighting up the evening sky in a brief colorful display. It is said that they are his present for the high prince’s coming of age. ”

Ñolofinwë can’t help but ask, casting a sidelong glance at the other elf. “I heard that they don’t get along well.”

“Unfortunately, yes, they don’t. But for their father’s sake I think they have to.”

“I think the news of his half-brother arriving must have put him off, he had too much in his cups and had to retire early to his chambers.” Ñolofinwë didn’t miss the appreciative look cast in his direction, from his head to foot. “If you are an acquaintance of both princes, I could see why the latter is upset.”

Ñolofinwë snorted. If the fool only knew.

“And I think he is already here.”  Ñolofinwë turned his head towards that. “He informed me he would be ready to meet you after the fireworks, at the main grounds where the masquerade ball is being held. ” The older elf offered his hand, “Come, let me escort you.”

“Right,” Ñolofinwë scoffed. “Like I need more reason _for you_ to find ways to touch me. I can find my way back myself, thank you.” He arranged his owl mask, stomping off as he bunched his skirts to avoid getting grass stains on them. He didn’t bother to look back at his companion. “I will also make sure he hears about this.”

\---

When he finally reached the main grounds, Ñolofinwë was relieved that some of the guests (or those who would most likely try to bother him) had wandered somewhere else. The celebration was in full swing, the music was upbeat and it seemed the crowd has doubled, some revelers in masks filling up the dance floor. His companion from earlier didn’t follow and had somehow disappeared, but Ñolofinwë could not care less, he was informed that Fëanáro is already here and he has waited long enough.

He is wary to move closer to the dance floor, seeing that the royal family, _his_ family, is seated far behind, on an elevated platform where they are currently feasting, having a good view of everyone, and made his way to turn back when he collided against someone's chest.

“My apologies..” he murmured, trying to move away, but a hand caught his wrist.

“Your _highness_.”

Ñolofinwë quickly looked up. The masked guest was significantly taller than him and was donned in finery of deep green and blues, half of his face covered with a feathered mask bearing the same colors, resembling a peacock. He however could recognize the smirk anywhere.

“Fëanáro!”

Ñolofinwë nervously looked around, and was grateful that no one was near enough to have heard them. He found himself caught in his arms, but having been handled and touched unnecessarily for the rest of the evening, he shrugged his half-brother’s hold off.

Fëanáro lifted an eyebrow. “You are angry.”

Ñolofinwë glared at him, or what he could muster behind his owl mask. “You left me in the hands of one of father’s advisors, the one dressed with an eagle mask. He seems to have no idea of personal space.” He looked over his half-brother’s profile, not used to seeing him _not_ wearing his usual colors. “--and you are taller.”

“Boot fillers,” he replied, “What’s the point of a masquerade when you cannot create an illusion of another identity?” he smirked, reaching out to pull him closer, placing both hands on his hips. Ñolofinwë’s hands flew immediately to press at his chest. “If I remember, the theme was _your_ idea. You certainly dressed for the part,” he breathed, moving his face closer, his eyes roving on his form,  “and about Lóravarnion, I will talk to him. He isn’t one easily to cave in to physical desire, but I could see why he did what he did. You have outdone yourself this time, little brother. You look..rather _ravishing_.”

“I...thank you.” Flustered, he could feel his skin prickle again when Fëanáro’s hands idly started to move up and down his hips, caressing them with his touch. “Did anyone see you?”

“If you worry if someone will recognize me, then no. I changed outfits soon after I formally met with father and his councilors and introduced my present to you for everyone else to see.” Much to Ñolofinwë’s frustration, Fëanáro drew back, with one hand resting lightly at the small of his back, “Shall we dance?”

\---

Ñolofinwë nodded. And with Fëanáro leading him, they headed onto the dance floor, moving a little way behind the dancing crowd to not catch attention. By the time they took their positions, the mood and tune of the music have already subtly shifted to something slow and mellow.

“Everyone knows you are never one to stay long for celebrations,” Ñolofinwë replied, taking advantage of Fëanáro’s current height to wrap his arms on his shoulders, hands placed lightly behind his nape, while Fëanáro’s hand moved at his back, and another at his waist, pressing him close to his body, inhaling his scent.

“That is true, but we all know that isn’t even your actual _present_ yet.” Fëanáro purred, one of his hands drifting down to cup one of Ñolofinwë’s cheeks, giving it a firm squeeze. Ñolofinwë drew in his breath sharply and stiffened, after which his face flushed bright and almost as red as the mask he is wearing. He peeked past Fëanáro’s shoulder, to see if anyone else could see them, and was relieved to see that everyone else was too preoccupied to notice.

“Fëanáro,” he gasped, “Not in public, someone might see what you are doing.”

“No one will notice as long as you keep your shawl around yourself.” he whispered, his hand indeed concealed beneath Ñolofinwë’s makeshift shawl. No one could notice the movement, especially in the slightly dim lighting of their surroundings. “Just continue dancing.”

Ñolofinwë nodded mutely and continued to move to the rhythm of the music, pressing himself closer as they danced, swaying his hips to feel more of Fëanáro’s touches. Pleased with his response, Fëanáro slipped his other hand on the other cheek as well, kneading them both in a sensually slow manner.

Ñolofinwë tried biting back a moan, and instead released a shaky exhale, shuddering and pressing his forehead against Fëanáro’s shoulder. The kneading motion was creating a sweet delicious friction underneath his dress through his silk underwear, rubbing him on his sensitive places, fuelling his arousal. He was already rapidly growing damp between his legs with the stimulation.

It continued on for a few more minutes until the minstrels changed their songs and Fëanáro, finding it rather odd (though pleasing) that Ñolofinwë seemed rather _too_ sensitive to his ministrations, slid one hand up and slipped it into one of the loosely clasped openings of the  gown’s lower back.

Ñolofinwë jerked in surprise. “Fëanáro, don’t..!”

Fëanáro’s long fingers dipped to trace the cleft of his buttocks and stopped when he felt what Ñolofinwë was wearing.

“Silk?” A wicked grin slowly spread on his face, and he felt  the material with his fingertips as Ñolofinwë groaned and buried his face on his shoulder in shame. “I never knew you to be so debauched that your fetish extends to female underwear.”

“I cannot wear my regular undergarments with this dress, okay?” His voice came out muffled across his shoulder. “And they came with the clothes.”

Fëanáro withdrew his hand, and returned both to his hips. Ñolofinwë looked clearly embarrassed, but Fëanáro pressed a kiss on his cheek. “I have to go for now, Father wants to discuss something before the festivities are over,” he whispered in his ear, pressing another kiss. “I won’t be too long, I’ll meet you in an hour in your chambers. I will take the secret route.” Ñolofinwë could almost feel him smile, the warm puff of his breath ghosting on the sensitive spot below his ear, making him shudder.

“Meanwhile, prepare yourself for me, in any way you would like, --” Fëanáro then drew back, and cast a glance over the elevated platform at the far end, where the royal family sat, their father standing up, making a move to leave the long table, but having a few words with his family first.

Ñolofinwë dismissed him with a confused nod and watched his half-brother blend into the crowd, re-emerging at the platform, and at the presence of the guards, reveal his identity by peeling his mask off. Their father, who has seen him approach, brightened and approached him immediately. Ñolofinwë then drifted his gaze across to see his family and his other siblings standing nearby, catching sight of Arafinwë’s blond head. As if he sensed it, and Ñolofinwë knows just how highly perceptive his younger brother is, he curiously turned to look at the crowd, as if to search for someone, and then met his gaze. Ñolofinwë quickly turned away, fearing that Arafinwë might have somewhat recognized him, and left the dance floor immediately to head towards the secret path leading to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lóravarnion - Gaelic 'dark brown one'; lóra "dark", varne "brown".  
> (source: elvish.org) This male OC have a long and thick dark brown hair, thus the name
> 
> reference for Ñolofinwë's veil drape:  
> http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-thing?.out=jpg&size=l&tid=42830627 
> 
> reference for Fëanáro’s peacock mask:  
> https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/0c/b2/60/0cb260be52e94bdc78fd72da8cf5c4fe.jpg
> 
> I have no reference for Ñolvo's clothes, since it's a mash of various research I put together. But its a drape dress with loose sleeves that shows the shoulders ;)
> 
> Also comments are appreciated, because I don't know the fuck I'm doing (is it offensive? is it weird? lemme know o/)  
> Sex would be in the next chapter XD


	3. 02: Impatience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ñolofinwë returned to his chambers to wait, but with a little (too much) wine and imagination, hands starts to wander...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the longest masturbation sequence and foreplay I ever wrote, that it deserved a chapter by itself. Also I took down the image headers as I realized.. it is for the other parts of the series and not the chapters :0 ! (I post late evening, tired, things happen XD)
> 
> ( some italics - fantasy sequence)

Ñolofinwë made sure that no one was following him when he slipped into the secret path leading back to his chambers. As soon as he entered his room, he quickly kicked off his shoes, and removed the cumbersome mask, tossing it along with the veil at the nearby table. He let out a deep sigh, rubbing his palms and fingers nervously, feeling them tingle with anticipation.

First task, he needed to sweep everything clean, and make his room presentable for Fëanáro, for what was about to happen this fateful evening. Ñolofinwë loosened his dress, took out the sashes from the front of it, and ran his hands through his hair. Tying one of the sashes like a makeshift messy bandana, he set to work.  
  
He carefully cleaned and placed all the accessories and make-up back in their boxes and back to the secret compartment of his trunk, setting aside the items he wore that evening in a small hamper-- he would personally clean them later. He then padded across his chambers, checking the lamps running low on light and replacing the candles; he moved his folded clothes from earlier into his drawers as well. He almost thought of replacing his bed sheets but then realized his room was cleaned earlier that day: he then just straightened them and added more cushioned pillows, selecting round and square shaped cushions, fluffing them. They came in deep red with gold accents that contrasted with his deep blue and silver bed canopy.

He had specifically requested some fragrant oils and incense earlier that day, and smiled to see them placed in a small basket near his door: along with a carafe full of light fruit wine and a glass, and a note of well-wishes for his begetting day.

A delightful shiver ran down his spine as he took two small phials from the basket: making the room smell fragrant wouldn’t be it’s only _use_ for the evening. He slipped one underneath his pillow and proceeded to use the other one -- a mix of jojoba and sandalwood -- in the lighted lamps near his bed, placing a few drops in each until he was satisfied with the scent whiffing subtly into the air.

Satisfied, Ñolofinwë untied his hair, wiped the sheen of sweat from his forehead and ran a hand through his still wavy locks. He reached for the carafe -- not bothering to get the glass, and plopped down on the nearby couch. He was still wearing his dress, now slightly wrinkled at the sleeves.

He took a few hearty swallows and set it down, recalling the events that happened that evening, and started to giggle. Ñolofinwë couldn’t believe that it went way better than expected, how his disguise had deceived his peers and how they, even when intimidated at first, eventually were drawn to him like bees to nectar. Maybe his half-brother was right, he does enjoy dressing up for the attention, and given the opportunity he would be tempted to do it again.

He frowned at the smudged lip tint at the brim of the carafe and remembered he still had face make-up on. Sighing, Ñolofinwë pushed himself up -- he wobbled a little-- the alcohol content of the wine was stronger than he expected it to be, and headed to his washroom. He washed his face and wiped the make-up off and almost removed his wrinkled dress to change to a silken robe, when he remembered how Fëanáro responded to it earlier and decided to keep it on.

He straightened his skirts, but let his sleeves drop loose. He will have to worry later how he should present himself to Fëanáro. For now, as he was finished cleaning and preparing his room, he could indulge himself.

Grabbing the half-empty carafe, Ñolofinwë crawled to the bed, plumping the pillows towards the headboard. He gathered his skirts up, and took a few sips, before turning around and plopping down on the bed with a sigh.

\---

He could hear the second round of fireworks from outside his windows, marking the second part of the festivities for the evening. He imagined that everyone who was aware of his absence might think he was missing out in his _own_ coming of age celebration, when what he really wants he will receive in the privacy of his bedroom.

He folded his legs, pushing himself up before he sank into the sea of pillows and cushions, leaning against the headboard. He was amazed by his tolerance; he was still not drunk, even with the amount of wine he had consumed during the evening (he didn't even feel like relieving himself), and could feel only a pleasant warm sensation coursing through his veins.

 _Not bad for my first time_ , he thought drowsily, one of his sleeves dropping off his shoulder. He didn’t bother fixing it, and finished off the wine in the carafe in few quick swallows, shivering lightly when a strong gust of wind started blowing through the curtains, gently pushing at the light fabric of his skirts, tickling his legs.

Ñolofinwë turned to his side to set the carafe down at the bedside table, snickering when he almost dropped it. He rolled back to his position, scrunching the other loose ends of the skirts, tucking them up to his waist. Spreading his legs wider, he hummed pleasantly as he closed his eyes and let the cool breeze caress his inner thighs. Goosebumps rose as the cool air brushed on his crotch.

“Ah--” he bit back a whimper, and shivered again. He was still damp from earlier when Fëanáro fondled his behind, and the touch of the gentle breeze was starting to make him grow warm and wet again. If he had been feeling drowsy earlier, he was no more, slowly and steadily building his arousal as he imagined _Fëanáro_ _between his legs, parting them wide_ (he parted them wider) _, his coarse hands dipping at his crotch_ (he reached with both hands at each side of his crotch) _as he inhaled the scent of his arousal._

He could almost hear _the rumble of his voice, coming out like a purr,_ “ _Little brother._ ”

“Ah, brother,” Ñolofinwë gasped, keeping his eyes closed as he palmed his cock, wet and straining hard within his silk panties. Ñolofinwë licked his lips, the material felt _wonderful_ as it rubbed against his skin. _Fëanáro would tease him like that for awhile, pulling down his underwear halfway_ (he cautiously tugged at the garters of his panties, until they reached below his hips) _and slipping in his hand to tug at his cock_ (already hard and leaking, he moved his hand lower giving his cock a few tugs, mewling at the delightful friction and slide of the silk fabric on his balls, as his panties gets pushed wetly deep into his crack).

“ _So eager for me, Nolo_ ,” _he would purr, those silver eyes flickering to his face. Moving forward, he would touch his face_ (he withdrew his left hand, touching his own cheek) _, hand gliding to his neck to run his fingers down his chest, tweaking his nipples_ (letting out a sigh, he slowly glided his hand to his neck, then slipped inside his loosened dress to pinch his nipples to hardness).

“Aah...only for you,” he gasped, rubbing a nub between his fingertips, while his other hand continued to fist his erection, slowly in a tight grip, just how Fëanáro would. “Fëanáro, please...”

“ _Wet them for me, go on_.”

_“Yes.”_

Ñolofinwë licked his lips and brought his hand to his mouth, licking each long digit before he started to suck at them, one to two alternating, coating them with his spit.

The wet sucking sounds interspersed with his soft moans, Ñolofinwë momentarily let go of his turgid cock to reach underneath his balls, lifting them so he could brush a digit to his hole. He shuddered to find it already softened and invitingly moist, He was so aroused, that he might no longer need the oil to lubricate himself.

He pressed two fingers against his entrance and they were sucked easily into his passage, surprising a gasp out of Ñolofinwë, the fingers of his other hand still in his mouth, as he started to grind his hips against the sheets. “ _It looks like you are ready_.”

_“Please.”_

_Fëanáro smiled, withdrawing his fingers_ (he withdrew his fingers, giving them one last long lick, his eyes half-opened and hazy), _and retreated back to sit on his haunches to get better access to his ass, flattening his erection on his belly as he reached underneath_ (he drew his hand back again to his erection, resuming his fisting, as he slipped the other hand underneath, spit-drenched fingers tracing and stretching his twitching rim, before he pressed two fingers once again in his hole).

“...Ahh!” He felt a deep jab and his eyes flew open, ending his fantasy, Fëanáro’s handsome face and form, gone. He dazedly gazed down at where his hands were, blushing. He could smell his arousal, his cock straining and peeking out from his panties, swollen and leaking dollop upon dollop of precome as he continued to fist himself with one hand, pushing the foreskin back to expose his cockhead and flicking his slit repeatedly. He tried to work two fingers in his ass with the other, but he can't seem to work his fingers deeper than from earlier, his passage spasming and clenching as he does.

Ñolofinwë made a frustrated noise, trying to grind and raise his hips as he worked his hand into himself, but his wrist was starting to ache from trying to find a comfortable angle.

“Damn it, I need...” He chewed on his lip, feeling as if he was not alone, darted his eyes around his bed chambers, uncomfortable to show what he was about to do next.

_Don't be ridiculous; you have checked the locks twice._

He could feel his face heat as he turned around, grabbing a pillow and placing underneath himself as he got into all fours. He bent over, pushing his skirts up until his legs and torso were bare, parting his legs wider and raising his buttocks up in the air.

The last time he was in such embarrassing position was a few years back, when after a morning swim, Fëanáro followed him to his rooms. Their father at that time had tried talking to Fëanáro about taking him on a hunting trip while he was still in the city, and Ñolofinwë, under the pretense he was still not on good terms with his half-brother, insisted he was too preoccupied to go. But as soon as the doors were locked, Fëanáro surged against him with a fierce kiss.

 _Still in his light bathing robes, Fëanáro shoved him into bed, in a position just like he was now, his hands reaching out to grab and knead his cheeks_ (with one folded arm to support himself over him, Ñolofinwë slipped one hand inside his panties to grope and feel his ass) _before parting them_ (he pressed two fingers on his cleft, trying to part his cheeks to expose his hole).

_“Fëanáro, what are you doing? That is unsanitary...” He protested weakly, feeling his warm breath against his ass. But Fëanáro only responded with a mischievous glint in his eyes, and darted a tongue to lick a long wet stripe from his sac to his untouched hole._

“Ah, Fëanáro.” Ñolofinwë moaned, slipping one long finger to rub briskly against his entrance, as he palmed his balls. His underwear clung below his buttocks, already soaked, and he was dripping precome on his pillow. He tentatively poked and then slipped his finger in, sighing in relief as it was sucked in with little resistance, then thrusting it in and out before slipping in another.

He worked on his passage, scissoring and stretching himself as he rocked and ground himself against the pillows, like how he wanted Fëanáro to push him against the sheets as he licks and laps his rim. He wiggled his ass as he tried to get his fingers deeper within him, to simulate how Fëanáro’s tongue would work wonderfully in his tight heat.

Ñolofinwë developed a rhythm, rocking on the sheets and pushing against his fingers. He could feel his nipples chaff against the pillow, but ignored the sting as he moaned and gasped, tending to his pleasure. His toes curled and his legs started trembling, as he pushed and slid a third finger into his hole, flexing his wrist to push deeper.

“Just...a little,” he panted, jerking with a soft cry when he found his prostate. “Ah yes, Fëanáro!”

As his legs trembled from the jolt of pleasure, Ñolofinwë whimpered and bit on his free hand to muffle a moan as he jabbed at the spot repeatedly, fingers curling and stroking his quivering passage faster and faster.

He wanted to spread his legs wider, but his soaked panties were in the way, and with an annoyed grunt, he slowed down his movements to withdraw his fingers from his ass. Ñolofinwë opened his eyes---he didn't even realized he had closed them---to look over his shoulder as he hazily pulled down his underwear to his knees....

Only to find Fëanáro leaning leisurely against the nearest window sill, his arms folded against his chest, his expression unreadable.

Ñolofinwë let out a surprised shout and tumbled down the bed, quickly pulling the sheets over himself as he scrambled towards the headboard in panic, his eyes wide in shock like that of  cornered prey.

“Fëanáro!” He could feel his face and ears growing hot in embarrassment that he might as well be flaming. “H-How..” His eyes darted around nervously. He was sure he’d locked all entrances and exits to his room.

“Spare keys,” Fëanáro answered simply, showing one hand, revealing a set of keys of different sizes. “I specifically re-made all the locks in all the royal quarters. I have duplicates of all of them.” There was a flash of mischief and barely concealed lust in those ravaging bright eyes of his. “I didn’t think it was worth mentioning so I never told you, but I certainly don’t regret sneaking in....”

Ñolofinwë placed both hands over his face; he wished the ground would just swallow him up. “I hate you.”

 “No, you don't, at least not when it's only us.”

 Ñolofinwë peeked out between his fingers. Fëanáro went to his nearby dressing table to get a chair and place it by the foot of the bed. “H--how much did you see?”

“When you started moaning my name, on all fours, as you were rubbing your fingers in your ass.”

Ñolofinwë groaned, bending down into the sheets piled up on his legs, his arousal rapidly diminishing.

“Really, Nolo, it's not like I haven't seen everything before.”

“Shut up.”

“The silk undergarments are a nice touch though,” Fëanáro replied, sitting down in the chair, stretching his limbs languidly as he leaned back, legs open. “Remind me to have a set sent for you next time.”

“I told you, they came with the clothes, I don't want more.” He heard Fëanáro chuckle. “Just leave it be.”

“Whatever you say, little brother.”

Ñolofinwë lifted his reddened face from the sheets. Once the words of familial endearment left his lips, he knew, from all the years that they have played their games, that it was permission to begin.

“Prepare yourself for me,” Fëanáro replied in answer to Ñolofinwë's slightly bewildered look. “Come on now, don't you want your _present_?”

Ñolofinwë nodded vigorously, pushing the sheets from over himself, kicking his drenched panties off his feet. Fëanáro stole a quick glance at them, before returning to him. He might look calm, sitting with the majesty and arrogance of a true crown prince, but Ñolofinwë could see how his pupils dilated, noticed his sharp inhaled breath, and had to stifle a groan at the sight of his tightening breeches-- he was already clearly aroused.

He tried to crawl seductively, swaying his hips, or as much as he could with the wrinkled mess of his skirts. He turned around, his back facing Fëanáro, and he pulled at and fluffed a new pillow, tossing the stained one on the floor.

Fëanáro made an impatient sound.

“Right, sorry--” Ñolofinwë looked over his shoulder. Fëanáro started to idly finger the lace of his breeches while his gaze remained fixed on him.

“Prepare yourself the way I saw you do earlier.”

Ñolofinwë swallowed thickly. Turning back, he sat on his haunches, gathered his skirts in his arms and pulled them up as high as he could to get onto all fours. He shivered as the breeze tickled his thighs, exposing his long legs and behind for Fëanáro’s viewing pleasure.

He bent forward, his chest pressed against the pillow beneath him, one arm folded in front of his head, ass high in the air. He felt like his whole body was glowing in embarrassment. Although they have been intimate during most of their encounters, Ñolofinwë had never placed himself in such a shameless and vulnerable display for his half-brother.

He rested a cheek on the pillow as he faced Fëanáro, and let out a choked gasp: Fëanáro had already started stroking himself lazily inside his unlaced breeches.

“So you are shy now?” His voice was patronizing, if not a tad breathless. “Spread your legs wider. I want to see more of you. Show me.”

Ñolofinwë nodded, spreading wider for him. He was mortified to find how he swiftly returned to hardness, so much that it hurt, and he had to bite back a pained moan as he started to drip precome again.

“This is...embarrassing, brother...” Ñolofinwë murmured, and with his free arm, he awkwardly slid two fingers between his cheeks, parting them to expose his hole. He buried his face to muffle an embarrassed moan as he felt his hole flutter involuntarily and a clear viscous secretion trickle down his inner thighs.

He swore he heard a low hiss of approval from Fëanáro.

“Well,” he drawled out huskily, “You may now begin.”

Ñolofinwë nodded, turning to face his half-brother again. Fëanáro’s expression remained passive. His strokes were slow and languid and Ñolofinwë was disappointed he could not even see the head of Fëanáro’s erection. He licked his lips, and drew two fingers up his crack, then slid them _both_ into his twitching opening without further preparation: he was loose from earlier and already eagerly wet. He mewled softly, his eyes fluttering half-closed, making a show of himself to Fëanáro as he ground his chest against the pillow and then rolled his hips up against his hand to thrust his fingers deeper into his passage.

“Yes, like that...” he purred.

Ñolofinwë curled his fingers and drew them out, then slipped them back in, aware of the lewd squelching sounds as he rocked into his hand, and rubbed himself against the pillow beneath him. He wondered how long Fëanáro would make him _wait_ , and decided to entice him by dragging his fingers, making his movements even _longer_ and _slower_ , trying to maintain eye contact, making sure his hand does not obstruct Fëanáro’s view of his hole and the dangling erection between his legs.

“I met and talked with Lóravarnion earlier,” Fëanáro said nonchalantly, like he was just having a normal conversation and does not have his hand inside his breeches. “He admitted to his folly, and he was tempted to go further only if you give him permission.”

Ñolofinwë’s brows knit, and he panted softly as he reached underneath himself to slowly tug at his neglected cock. This was such ridiculous timing to discuss such trivial matters.

“He also told me you were rather popular this evening with the men.”

“I...” Ñolofinwë’s legs trembled. “They approached me.”

“Yet you allowed them to _touch_ you.” Fëanáro’s tone was almost condescending, though he inhaled sharply when Ñolofinwë pressed down his torso as well, folding his legs as he rubbed his length against the pillow. Ñolofinwë murmured an “oh yes,” and repeated it again, grinding his hips down and rocking to and fro, smearing a trail of precome on the pillow with both hands grasping at the sheets. Fëanáro watched in disbelief.

“Are you jealous, _brother_?” He looked over his shoulder, tossing his messy waves over one shoulder as he pushed himself up, his nipples already smarting from all the grinding and rubbing earlier. He squeezed the pillow between his legs, hands in front of him and resumed his slow rutting, making sure he was thrusting his ass out. Fëanáro seemed mesmerized by it.

“Stop that, Nolo.”

Ñolofinwë smiled.

“You are.. imagining it, aren’t you?” he sighed. “What if I decided to have a little fun, and if they don't...ah...mind, it's a masquerade after all. I could get away with it.”

Fëanáro didn't respond, but his gaze was fixed on the way Ñolofinwë swayed his hips. “Lóravarnion looked like he wouldn't mind.” He turned slightly to reach for his ass with one hand to probe his hole. “Maybe I could also take...”

He sensed victory when he saw Fëanáro tighten his grip on the arm of the chair, the motion of his other hand in his breeches slowing down.

Having reached the end of his patience, Fëanáro pulled his hand from his breeches and stood up to stride over to the bed. Ñolofinwë made an excited noise, and he didn't stop rutting, but started to move faster instead.

Fëanáro slid to the bed, wrapping his arms around his waist, staking his claim, and nibbled on his eartip. “No, you are _mine._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger! But it seems the chapter is getting too long at this point, so we divided it into two parts. More glorious smut for everyone for the next chapter XD


	4. 03. Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ñolofinwë finally receives his hard-earned ‘present’.

Ñolofinwë breathed a 'yes’, slowing down immediately, although his legs were still visibly shaking from the movement (and the abrupt halt of his mounting pleasure). Fëanáro’s coarse hands moving up and down his hips, gliding possessively, dipping to his crotch but avoiding his erection. “Present yourself to me, no more unnecessary touches.”

Ñolofinwë responded by bending over again and wiggling his behind, but let out a surprised yelp when Fëanáro slapped his cheek.

“Properly!”

Ñolofinwë huffed, but  shuffled about and pushed himself up. Fëanáro scooted backwards, giving him ample space as he gathered up his skirts, and watched as Ñolofinwë repositioned himself, lying down on his back, folding his long legs as he hiked up the troublesome layers of fabric to his waist, before spreading them wide open for him.

Ñolofinwë’s face was flushed beautifully, a bright pink blush tinged his cheeks, creeping slowly to his near bare chest as Fëanáro moved forward, eyeing him hungrily, savouring the sight presented before him, so eager and wanton. His sleeves had fallen off loosely to his elbows, exposing most of his chest as his nipples peeked from the fabric, chafed and reddened from all the rubbing on the pillow from earlier. He was hard, his erection pink and twitching as it pointed at Fëanáro’s face, bending only a little to the left and leaking with precome. It was well-proportioned to match his height and the rest of him.

“Please,” Ñolofinwë murmured. He parted his legs even wider, moving his knees closer to his thighs so he could lift and expose more of his ass, hoping his half-brother would get the hint. He let out a soft sigh of relief when he felt Fëanáro move, his eyes fluttering closed, as his half-brother’s broader form loomed so close that he could feel the heat emanate from his body, coarse hands reaching for his cheeks, squeezing them tantalisingly before prying them open to expose his hole, gaping and moist, ready for him.

“ _Brother_ ,” Ñolofinwë gasped clutching the sheets over his head, knowing fully how the word would affect Fëanáro. Ñolofinwë shuddered slightly as he felt a wet trickle of liquid continue to leak and slide down between his cleft to pool on the sheets below, and how desperately _eager_ he has become for Fëanáro to be inside of him. “Brother, _please_.”

Fëanáro’s hands withdrew and Ñolofinwë could feel his knees press underneath the small of his back. He heard Fëanáro’s impatient grunt, followed by the rustling of fabric, it was then Ñolofinwë opened his eyes, licking his lips to the sight of Fëanáro half naked, removing the loose laces and pushing down his breeches to pull out his erection, already swollen red and throbbing with need.

He would hate to admit it later, but Ñolofinwë made an unusually pitched and excited noise, wiggling his ass closer to Fëanáro, who took hold of his folded legs and pressed them forward till he was completely bent, hooking each long leg to his shoulder.

“So eager.” he smirked, prying his buttocks open, and positioning his shaft near his entrance, hearing Ñolofinwë’s sharp inhale. “But not too soon.”

Ñolofinwë wondered what he meant, and realized, Fëanáro, for all his impatience and never doing things by halves, leisurely held onto his folded legs and started to rock slowly, rubbing his shaft lazily over his moist entrance.

  
Ñolofinwë’s eyes flew wide open. “Fëanáro!”

Fëanáro could not resist chuckling at his younger half-brother's attempted glare. If Ñolofinwë thought he could lure him into giving him what he wanted so easily by behaving uncustomarily meek in their bedplay, he was wrong.

“Fëanáro.” This time it came out as a choked sob, but Fëanáro tutted and merely shook his head. He released his grip on one of his legs and snaked one hand over his leaking shaft, stroking it lightly in tandem with his lazy rocking against his ass, making Ñolofinwë mewl softly.

“You like that, don't you?” he murmured, watching Ñolofinwë’s eyes grow hazy once more. his expression pliant as he nodded in response and dropping his head back on the cushions in surrender, letting Fëanáro do what he wished. “You wanted more?”

“Of course I--” Ñolofinwë gasped as Fëanáro flicked his thumb repeatedly over his slit, “--wanted more. Brother, please!”

“You are not quite ready.”

“We talked about this, I am already of age!” Ñolofinwë might have sounded petulant, but he didn't see the purpose of Fëanáro’s delay. “I even prepared myself _thoroughly_ for you...” He could feel his face heat once more, and looked away. He realized Fëanáro had stopped rocking against him, his hands stilling “...you saw that.”

“Yes, I did. But that was not what I meant,” Fëanáro replied cryptically, observing his half-brother, now stewing with both shame and desperate want as he avoided his gaze. “And what was the point of all of this if we didn’t get to enjoy ourselves?” His eyes then fell upon his chest, and letting go of Ñolofinwë's shaft, he reached out to pinch his right nipple.

Ñolofinwë let out an undignified squeak, shuddering in disbelief as he looked at Fëanáro's hand, rolling the sensitive nub between his fingers.

“It hurts!” he cried out, but Fëanáro ignored him and pinched at the nipple again. Ñolofinwë yelped, trying to bat his hand away from it to no avail. “It hurts, stop!”

But Fëanáro didn't stop, pulling and tearing his other sleeve down and reached out to the other nipple as well, tugging them both at the same time, and Ñolofinwë wailed.

“You were just a little over-sensitive, little _brother_.” He smirked, and Ñolofinwë followed his gaze to where a fresh trickle of precome beaded on his cockhead and oozed onto his belly. “You obviously get turned on by it. Didn't you say you wanted more?”

“I...”

“Push your sleeves down, Nolo. I want you bare for me.”

Even as he shivered, Ñolofinwë obeyed, pushing himself up to pull down his sleeves and the rest of the top part of his dress away from his elbows until it was completely down to his waist. Once done, Fëanáro moved and bent closer down to his chest, pressing small licks, nips, and bites all over, leaving a wet trail of red oval shaped bite marks on Ñolofinwë's skin as he listened to his soft pants for breath.

They escalated to between a moan and a wail when Fëanáro flickered his tongue on a reddened nub, nipping it gently before enclosing his lips around and forcefully sucking. Ñolofinwë’s hands quickly flew to Fëanáro’s head, fingers running through the loosely bound hair, tangling at the small braids on the sides of his head. He could not tell whether he was pushing away or pulling Fëanáro’s head down, but he was arching his chest into his half-brother’s attentions.

Ñolofinwë inhaled noisily when he felt his half-brother chuckle against him, reaching to pinch the other nipple as he continued to lap and suck, making him jerk and squirm at the touch again.  
  
“...Náro,” he whimpered. “Stop, I...” 

But Fëanáro didn't show any signs of slowing down, and Ñolofinwë swore he felt an eyebrow raise as he stopped pinching, and licked and kissed across his chest, before latching to the other nipple, licking it and sucking on it with renewed hunger. Fëanáro smiled in satisfaction to feel his half-brother quiver.

“Stop, it... I -- ah!” Ñolofinwëe gasped as one of Fëanáro’s hands reached for his leaking hardness, giving it a squeeze and a light slap before he started to simultaneously stroke him in rhythm with his suction. “I don't wa--” he moaned, unable to finish his sentence, as Fëanáro also resumed his slow rutting between his buttocks. Ñolofinwë started to sob in frustration, being stimulated in a leisurely (and painfully) slow pace in his sensitive areas all at once, while being denied what he wanted to have.  

“You don’t want this?” Fëanáro murmured against his skin, and Ñolofinwë felt it more than heard it. Whimpering, he just shook his head in his response, meeting his eyes. It seemed he was waiting for an answer, his gaze still held even as Fëanáro continued to nip and suck at his chest.

“I..” he choked, as Fëanáro lazily ground against him again. “I don’t want to come...yet.”

Fëanáro stopped, dropping kisses to his chest, as a new set of fireworks erupted from outside, lighting up the skies once more, and Ñolofinwë might have snickered at the comical expression that was so unbecoming on Fëanáro if he wasn’t hazy and lost in pleasure.

“Did you borrow from your sister’s clothes again?”  
  
“No! It’s just...” he sighed, he might as well admit to it. “This was not what I imagined it would be, I was expecting...”

“Hmm,” Fëanáro said, moved up to nibble at his collarbone, “what are _you_ expecting?”

“For you to be inside me, as I--”, Ñolofinwë drew a sharp breath as Fëanáro flicked his thumb over the slit at the top of his cock again and bit on the skin at the junction between Ñolofinwë’s neck and shoulder at the same time, “--come. Ah! That hurts!”

“That was for being ridiculous,” Fëanáro replied, giving the bite an apologetic lick. Ñolofinwë was sure the bite would  bruise later. “You are not a blushing bride, Ñolofinwë, there are other ways I could claim you. Are you truly that desperate to have me?”

“I would not have any other.”

“You speak like I am your first experience with--”

“Yes.” He squirmed when Fëanáro’s hold on his shaft didn't loosen as he abruptly stopped, looking down at him with a brief glance of surprise before schooling it to a more neutral expression. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know?”

“No.” Fëanáro huffed, “You insisted to not be treated like a child, so I assumed you had fooled around with other boys your age-- maybe not all the way, but, all those years ago, you acted like  _ you knew _ what you were doing. You had me fooled.”

“That was never my intention,” he replied, sighing as Fëanáro returned to teasing and stroking him, although there was a tentative air now about  his actions. “I just pretended that I do know. I-- I have read about how it's done, they have illustrations in those hidden books in the library. I heard gossip from the guards when they have been too much in their cups.”   


“You did your research.” Fëanáro hummed, and dropped a wet smack of a kiss on the middle of his chest as he withdrew, making Ñolofinwë whine. “Impressive. What else have you learned?”

“You also  _ like _ it when i'm wearing female clothes. Not just as a disguise..to meet you...” he whispered. Fëanáro had pulled back to sit on his haunches, pushing both of Ñolofinwë’s legs down from his shoulders. “Oh please, let me have it, Fëanáro! I didn’t mean to deceive you!”

Fëanáro eyed him indulgently, his half-brother panting softly with his exposed chest drenched with spit, littered with oval-shaped bites where purple red bruises were starting to bloom along with teeth marks, nipples reddened and raw just like his ass was from all the friction. His hair was a tousled mess and his face enticingly flushed, his belly and the folded layers of fabric bunched around near his torso had been stained gloriously with precome. Ñolofinwë parted his legs wider to expose himself again. His eyes speak of desperation and Fëanáro decided he would not torture him any longer.

He reached for the discarded sash he was wearing earlier and took hold of Ñolofinwë’s  wrists, clasping them together above his head, binding them loosely to the headboard.

“Fëanáro!”

Fëanáro grinned wickedly, adjusting himself in-between Ñolofinwë’s parted legs as he struggled against the bonds. “Behave now, and trust me,” he purred, running his hands down both sides of his crotch, feeling Ñolofinwë tremble, before taking hold of his weeping shaft and tugging at it, watching him shudder and cry softly as he settled into a rhythm, his other hand sliding down to fondle his sac.

“Just imagine,” Fëanáro stated, his hand cupping Ñolofinwë’s balls and moving lower to trace at his rim, “If Father learns what you truly  _ desired _ for your coming of age---” he slipped two fingers in, which were sucked in easily, and hooked them upwards, making Ñolofinwë jerk violently and curse. “Maybe I will tell him, for he will question your suspiciously monthly sojourns.”

“You wouldn’t!” Ñolofinwë protested, moaning as Fëanáro stroked and scissored his passage whilst adding another finger, and feeling that he was loose enough, firmly pushed in another. Four fingers in. He made a keening sound as Fëanáro started to move his fingers.

“I will claim you for everyone to see, ” Fëanáro continued, like he didn’t have most of his hand in Ñolofinwë’s ass, feeling the tight passage spasm and quiver around his fingers as he pushed deeper, pressing the thumb on his sac and rubbing it idly. “The entire court in a large room, a bed in the middle with...lightly screened columns, that is, if you care for some semblance of ‘modesty’.” He felt Ñolofinwë’s cock twitch and watched his abdomen tremble, precome beading and trickling down from his erection. He released it briefly to give it a playful slap. “You would  _ love _ that, wouldn't you? To be watched, to be seen so shamelessly debauched.”

Ñolofinwë opened his mouth to reply, but only manage to emit a choked moan, panting, tightening his grip on the bonds as he was rocked to the bed by Fëanáro’s hands.

“You will wear nothing save the jewelry I have sent you all through these years,” he purred, enticing Ñolofinwë further. “You will ride me...”

Ñolofinwë’s breathing grew more ragged and labored, his head lolling as Fëanáro moved his fist faster in tandem with his fingers below. “I will make you beg and scream, scream to Father, to  _ your _ family, to witness how you take in my cock deep in your ass, to witness as I make you a man.”

Fëanáro could tell from long experience that he did not need to find Ñolofinwë’s spot to bring him to the brink. He watched as his stomach muscles fluttered and tightened, and with a freeing cry, his half-brother’s name on his lips, he arched and came in four heavy long spurts. Fëanáro kept his grip and rhythm steady, pulling his other hand from Ñolofinwë’s ass to push his hips down and firmly against the mattress, making sure he spends himself in full.

Fëanáro slowed down and released his hold when Ñolofinwë finally stopped shaking from the aftermath of what seems to be the strongest orgasm he ever had witnessed from him, his heavy breathing mellowed down to light panting, his release a mess splattered on his stomach and chest, some reaching as high as his chin. His eyes were glazed from pleasure. Fëanáro chuckled and wiped his hands on the blankets before reaching to remove the bindings, and then swiped a thin string of drool from the corner of Ñolofinwë’s mouth with his thumb, in a lingering caress.

Blushing, Ñolofinwë licked his lips immediately, rubbing his sore wrists as he watched Fëanáro reached to scoop some of his release from his chest and belly. “...Will you take me now?” 

Fëanáro licked his fingers with his eyes closed, savoring the salty taste, and Ñolofinwë felt he might have drooled again if not for Fëanáro’s other hand running his thumb over his lips. He opened his eyes.“Yes.”

“My family better not be on the other side of the door!”

Fëanáro grinned. “Of course not. It's just fascinating to watch how it turns you on when you feel others are watching.” He pulled back, removing his breeches, and then reached to wipe the rest of the come from Ñolofinwë’s belly with his other hand, gathering enough to rub them together and palm it on his erection. “My half-brother, a brazen exhibitionist.”   
  
Ñolofinwë was too mesmerized by the sight of Fëanáro’s shaft to retort, even having seen it -- and taken it in his mouth -- several times. He let out a yelp when Fëanáro pulled him closer by the hips, spreading his legs wider before placing a cushion underneath him.

“I--don’t need that.” He lifted himself on his elbows to look down, eager to see their joining. 

“Yes, you will, as I take you.” Fëanáro guided his tip to Ñolofinwë’s hole, and without further delay, pushed in. His cockhead slipped in easily, breaching the initial resistance of the ring of muscle, loosened from foreplay and wetness. Ñolofinwë’s breathing hitched and he swallowed thickly, but didn't tense up, watching as Fëanáro continued to slide in, his pink rim stretching to accommodate his half-brother's girth until Fëanáro's hips were squarely pressed to his buttocks.

“You are still so  _ tight _ .” Fëanáro grunted, feeling only a mild pleasant vibration in Ñolofinwë ’s tight wet heat and frowned when he realized Ñolofinwë was trying to suppress a giggle...not a reaction he was expecting on their first joining. “Does it hurt?”   


“No...no, it does not. Just a dull ache when you pushed in.” However, he whimpered when Fëanáro swayed his hips a little, moving closer to lean forward, placing both arms at the sides of his head. “And I feel very stretched.”   


“Ah, my guess was correct then.” He placed a kiss on Ñolofinwë’s forehead when his brows knit in confusion at Fëanáro’s words. “Otherwise, I would be so worried.”

“Fëanáro...did you just conduct  _ an experiment _ on me?”

“Hm, you could say that, but you enjoyed it.” He inched closer to his lips, pressing a kiss to them. He murmured, “Wrap your legs around me, Nolo.”

Ñolofinwë did what he was told, eagerly folding his long legs around his half-brother’s torso. “You  _ still  _ didn’t answer my question,” he replied, nipping on his lower lip.   
  
“You were  _ very _ tense,” Fëanáro sighed, for Ñolofinwë would persist if he didn't answer. “You were so worked up on preparing yourself that no matter how many fingers you or I stuck in, your muscles would not really loosen up.” He adjusted himself,, leaning a little to his left as he wrapped his right arm underneath his half brother's waist and pulled him close, and Ñolofinwë wrapped his arms immediately around his neck. He silently marveled at how Fëanáro easily held him with only one arm, due to strength built from years working in the forge. “The only way to make you loosen up was, well...”

“Oh...” 

“Yes,” He pressed another kiss to his mouth and Ñolofinwë parted his lips, eagerly receiving it.“--and now, enough talking. Hold on tight.”

Ñolofinwë nodded, and gasped into Fëanáro's mouth as he started to rock into him, kissing him lazily on the mouth, on his cheeks, slowly building a steady rhythm. His brows knit and he grunted as Ñolofinwë tightened every time he drew out. Fëanáro retaliated by nipping at his throat. “Don’t do that.”

Ñolofinwë responded by smirking and squeezing his walls tighter as Fëanáro sheathed himself again, not used to the uncustomary gentleness of his half-brother's movements, demanding more. Fëanáro then moved to bite the skin just below his ear.

“Ah!” Ñolofinwë yelped, as Fëanáro swiftly withdrew and then slammed back into him with a resounding smack, and continued to thrust into him in a rapid-fire pace, enough to stun Ñolofinwë so that he could not even react. He choked out a sob and let out a loud wail, his behind getting roughly pounded, and bouncing hard off the cushions underneath him.

Fëanáro gritted his teeth, staring at his half-brother beneath him, who was now gasping and panting loudly.  _ Now, how do you like that? _ He grinned wickedly, the sound of Ñolofinwë’s moans and the lewd wet slapping of flesh against flesh filling the chamber.

Ñolofinwë’s head started to loll backwards and his eyelids were fluttering as he tried to keep them open. Fëanáro’s grin faltered, fearing he might have gone too far in teaching his half-brother a lesson when Ñolofinwë suddenly surged forward for a hungry kiss.

“Yes!” he breathed, squeezing his legs tighter, demanding and urgent, just when Fëanáro started to slow down. He pulled back a little to see Ñolofinwë's pupils fully blown with lust and desire, so much so that he can no longer see the blue-grey irises. “That’s it, that’s---yes--don’t hold back for me...”

“Nolo...”

“Yes!” he snapped impatiently. “You have teased me long enough, let me have it.”

“Any harder and you will sit on cushioned chairs for a  _ week _ .”

“I don’t care, I can take it!”

As soon as the words left his lips, Fëanáro grunted and then pushed back, gripping Ñolofinwë hard on the hips, and while still joined, swiftly pulled him up to seat him on his lap. The sudden change of position made the penetration deeper, and Fëanáro felt Ñolofinwë’s whole body going shockingly still for a minute before he let out a pained whimper, and shuddered violently, his legs trembling. Fëanáro could feel the walls of his passage spasm, clenching and unclenching, trying to adjust to the new angle of intrusion.

“Shh, try to relax.” he reassured him. His half-brother’s face had scrunched up, with the back of the palm of one hand on his mouth. Fëanáro pulled it away; he does not want to see any part of Ñolofinwë’s handsome face hidden. He brushed away the hair clinging wetly to his face. “If you want me to stop--”

“No.” Ñolofinwë choked out, shaking slightly as Fëanáro tried to ease him by gliding his calloused hands tenderly up and down his back. He tried to widen and adjust his legs, and took in a few deep breaths before kicking the fabric around him. “I told you, I can take it.”

He shivered when Fëanáro’s hands dipped lower down his back and then realized he was reaching for the snaps of his dress, unlatching them. He had almost forgotten he was wearing it, and eagerly helped Fëanáro pull it up and remove it. Save for the jewelry, he now sat completely naked in front of his half-brother, who was eyeing him with renewed desire, as if he had completely unwrapped a present ready to be enjoyed.

“That’s better.” Fëanáro breathed, leaning close to inhale his half-brother’s scent, and pressed a kiss underneath his jaw, trailing a scattering of light bites to his collarbone. Ñolofinwë tilted his neck, exposing more of his skin to be nipped, licked, and kissed. He inhaled sharply when Fëanáro started jerking his hips upwards, impatient.

“Do you want me to start?” He jerked upwards again, more forceful this time. Ñolofinwë nodded mutely, biting his lip, a habit that Fëanáro found endearing and lightly kissed him on the nose and then his mouth. Ñolofinwë eagerly responded with feverish fervour. Fëanáro kissed away his moans as he reached down to grab and squeeze his ass cheeks, further tantalizing him as he started to resume his thrusts.

Ñolofinwë tightened his grip on his shoulders, and when Fëanáro pulled away from the kiss, he tentatively lifted his hips and tried to meet his thrusts mid-way, his breathing stiff. Fëanáro moved his hands up from his buttocks to pet his sides, encouraging and reassuring him, scattering kisses beneath his neck and his collarbones. When the tension on his legs melted away and Ñolofinwë started to relax, easily rolling his hips forward and flexing his thighs more fluidly, Fëanáro glided his hands to his hips, holding them as he started to pick up the pace and set them in a sensual coordinated rhythm.

Ñolofinwë kept gasping and moaning his name, alternating with “Please” and “Yes”, as he massaged Fëanáro’s erection each time he brought his ass down, making lewd slapping sounds as he rode and rutted against his half-brother in abandon.

\---

The festivities outside were starting to gain momentum, and Fëanáro could hear the crowd celebrating outside, singing, dancing, performing in honor of his little brother’s special day.

“Do you hear that?” He didn't wait for Ñolofinwë to answer, gripping his hips tighter as he angles his thrust, “Everyone is out there celebrating your coming of age---and yet they have no idea you would rather be here--legs open wide, riding my cock.” Ñolofinwë shrieked, and Fëanáro grinned wolfishly, knowing he had found his spot. He surged forward for an open-mouthed kiss to muffle his half-brother's cries as he continued to relentlessly slam on his prostate with precision, like a hammer striking an anvil. “Not so loud now.” Ñolofinwë felt the words on his lips rather than heard them. Fëanáro licked his lips. “The guards might hear you.”

Ñolofinwë nodded and with a choked cry tried to rein it in, his breathing starting to be heavily erratic. “Ai,  _ brother _ ,” he panted, his brows knitting. Fëanáro felt his length twitch on his belly, he was already close. 

“Brother, I--” 

He shuddered and, with a wordless cry, came hard even with his cock untouched, spraying his release on both their bellies, reaching as far as Fëanáro’s chest. Fëanáro kept his momentum up as he let Ñolofinwë ride out his orgasm, his entrance twitching so violently that it felt like Ñolofinwë was  _ sucking him in _ and he was just so  _ tight _ that Fëanáro felt he was also nearing his own climax.

He didn't wait for Ñolofinwë to recover, and with a growl, shoved him back to the bed, spreading his legs wide and ass up in the air. Fëanáro withdrew swiftly, only to slam back in, snapping his hips with few more erratic thrusts, and with a final jerk, came, moaning low, pulsing hot and hard in his half-brother's passage. Ñolofinwë watched Fëanáro's face transported into bliss as he himself let out a shuddering gasp from underneath, clenching his ass to try to hold in Fëanáro’s essence as much as he can, even if Fëanáro slowly withdrew from him, grunting, his cockhead slipping out with a wet popping sound.

Fëanáro looked over his half-brother's behind, the cheeks looked raw but there were no signs of bruises or scratches. He inspected his loosened and reddened hole, still dripping with his release, and was relieved to see no signs of blood.

“You are going to sit on cushions for week,” Fëanáro grumbled, exhausted and worn out as he rolled off to lie down beside his half-brother. “I hope you will not regret it.”

“It’s--” Ñolofinwë breathed, “--it’s just a minor inconvenience I'm willing to go through.”

“No regrets?”

“No regrets.”

 

Fëanáro turned to his side, lazily wiping the seed drying up on Ñolofinwë's chest with his fingers before making a show of licking and sucking them one by one. Ñolofinwë was entranced with the sight, and without looking away, reached between his legs, dipping into the small pool of release between his cheeks and tasting Fëanáro on his fingers.

“This was the best begetting day ever.” Fëanáro chuckled at the words as Ñolofinwë turned to lie flat on his belly, snuggling against him. “If I could only celebrate it every month.”

“ _ Officially _ , you have reached your majority, it doesn't have to be your birthday if you want to have...more.”

“You almost forgot, it’s going to be a week  _ long _ celebration.” Ñolofinwë smiled, folding his arms in front of him, resting his chin on his hands. He folded his legs up, crossing his ankles. With a blanket haphazardly thrown around his torso and his pert bottom bare, hair still wavy and with faint traces of make-up on his face, Ñolofinwë could still pass as a handsomely built female.

“Hm, I’m afraid even I wouldn’t last that long,” Fëanáro replied, drifting his hand to idly stroke Ñolofinwë’s shoulder, rubbing his thumb over its curve. “You could have fun trying to explore...other options.”

Ñolofinwë slapped Fëanáro’s arm lightly, and Fëanáro winced. He couldn’t believe sex would put Ñolofinwë in such a mischievous mood. “Earlier you told me that you want me with no other.”

“I didn’t say anything like that, I said you are mine.” Fëanáro sighed.  “I am your first, in body and in heart. No one else will ever have your heart like I do.”

Ñolofinwë leaned over to give him a quick kiss. “Post-coital bliss has made you sentimental, brother. I think all our arguments should now be settled through pillow talk.”

But Fëanáro had that look that made Ñolofinwë almost roll his eyes. It was a look of strong determination to persist on the current topic. “Hm, try giving Lóravarnion a chance. He seem quite taken by your ‘exotic’ looks. Lure him in, imagine how would he react if he learned you have a surprise between your legs.”

“Brother, that was just cruel,” Ñolofinwë pouted, not missing the soft smile that rarely graced his half-brother’s profile, his hand now drifting towards the dip of his back.

“Come on now, you would like to get back at the old windbag.”

“That old windbag has probably seen far worse things than a male masquerading in a dress.” Ñolofinwë squirmed, his gaze following the path of Fëanáro’s hand settling on his still sore behind.

Fëanáro gave it a light pat. “He could have more experience in the sheets too.” 

“He is probably  _ older _ than Father.” He wiggled, until Fëanáro’s hand retreated. “But fine, I will give it a try just to see what happens. On one condition.”

“What is it?”

Ñolofinwë looked up from underneath his lashes, admiring his half-brother's profile. “I would love to do it again.”

Fëanáro lifted himself up from his elbows to frown down at the expectant face snuggled near his bicep.

“Now?”

Ñolofinwë hummed, wiggling close so he could land a small bite on his shoulder. Fëanáro flinched. “You are so  _ insatiable _ , little brother. You just  _ came _ a few minutes ago, and also less than half an hour before that.”

“Hmm, only for you.” Ñolofinwë grinned, nuzzling Fëanáro as he slinked lower, breathing in his scent, and was delighted to discover that Fëanáro was already half-hard. “Insatiable, like an unquenchable fire. Maybe it's a shared family trait?”

“Smugness is not becoming on you.” Fëanáro frowned, but he didn't stop Ñolofinwë from his ministrations, until he licked a long wet stripe from his balls to his cock head. “Nolo!”

“If you want me to take up the dare,  _ brother _ ,” Ñolofinwë murmured, scooting close until he managed to reposition himself between Fëanáro's legs. “Also, you told me I could request  _ anything _ from you for my begetting day.” He inhaled deeply, nipping at his crotch as Fëanáro cursed. “You didn't say that it just has to be one request.”

“Fine,” Fëanáro grumbled, dropping his head back to the pillows. “What is the other thing that you want?”

“You already have shown and taught me enough, let me repay it by...claiming you.” Ñolofinwë smirked against the side of his length; he could hear his half-brother groan. He straightened up a little to flick his tongue on his cock head.

“Don't look at me like that. I know you want me to. You keep lingering on the sight of my length every time you bed me.” He licked up another wet stripe up his shaft, making Fëanáro jerk. “You keep saying how it's proportional to the rest of my size. And I'm already almost half a foot taller than you.”

Ñolofinwë slipped both of his hands underneath his half-brother's ass, cupping his cheeks and parting them to expose his untouched hole. “And I'm still growing.”

“Fine,” Fëanáro groaned in resignation., He could feel the puff of Ñolofinwë's warm breath on his buttocks, and shivered as he felt a flick of spongy wetness on his rim. “I have to remind you though, it's not my first time to be taken.”

“Mmm..and it won’t be the last.” And Ñolofinwë started to lap at Fëanáro’s hole briskly, hungrily, pleased to hear Fëanáro's breathing growing ragged, as he spread his legs wider for him. Fëanáro jerked his hips up, letting out a sudden cry and a curse when Ñolofinwë slipped in one finger simultaneously along with his tongue. 

Fëanáro sunk his head deeper into the pillows, clutching the sheets around him as Ñolofinwë reverently flattened his cock on his belly with one hand, moaning against his ass as he slicked and laved his walls with his tongue, pulling his hole open as he slipped in another finger. Ñolofinwë was proving to be a fast learner and this was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a (sex-free) epilogue to follow after :)


	5. Epilogue: Hangover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after, a week full of celebration and promises---and a curious younger brother.

It was near noon, from the warm rays drifting into his room, that Ñolofinwë woke up with a start.

His head throbbed as the consequence of indulging himself with too much fruity flavored wine, but he was not so groggy as to forget that he drew all the curtains down for the evening, _someone else had entered the room and drew them back_.

He noticed that the other side of his bed was empty.

Ñolofinwë hazily remembered Fëanáro getting up early, murmuring that he had to leave to take care of something back at home. He might have drawn the curtains back for him, and Ñolofinwë pushed himself up to double-check-- hissing at the dull throbbing ache on his still sore ass-- as well at the other parts of his body. He mentally noted to apply some healing salves for the bruises and bites later, grabbed a silken robe from the washroom, and padded around to check the doors.

He let out a sigh of relief when he could see all the locks in his room were still secured. Ñolofinwë peeked outside, put on  his slippers and walked past the adjoining antechamber (the pile of presents had grown), and talked to the guards outside. The amused glint in their eyes made Ñolofinwë cringe a little. Fëanáro was right to assume that his cries were indeed loud enough if they managed to go through _two_ rooms. Rubbing his temples, he left instructions and a request to have the servants prepare his noon meal outside at the privacy of his canopied lounging area by his favorite garden: it was a short walk from his rooms and far from the family common dining area. He didn’t feel like facing them (and answering questions) at the moment.

Groaning, he slightly limped back to his room, hiding and cleaning any evidence of the activity from the previous evening before the servants arrived. He took a long warm bath, applied salves and ointments over his sore areas, and selected a robe with a collar long enough to hide the love bites his half-brother littered on his neck down to his chest.

Before leaving, he grabbed a small cushion. He would most likely need it.

\---

It was a blessedly warm cloudless day, with only a few gardeners around tending to the shrubs, flower beds and trees. Ñolofinwë silently thanked his luck that they were all absorbed and too busy with their duties to notice him walk by-- with a mild limp. The salves have yet to take full effect, and sitting would be a chore for a good few days. He reached the small enclosure by his favorite garden, where white bespoke canopies were hung and tied over branches from the trees, crowning the dining area. There were a few cushioned lounging chairs, and a long futon bed as well, giving the place a quaint and relaxing ambiance.

Ñolofinwë sighed at the sight of Arafinwë’s conspicuous blond halo as he waved from where he sat, lounging by one of the fancier and the only cushioned chairs in front of the low dining table. The meal was already prepared and the servers have left -- as Ñolofinwë insisted he needed his privacy, and hadn’t expected his brother to show up.

“You are here.” He discreetly slid the cushion on his chair as he was about to sit, hoping his perceptive brother didn’t notice it.

“It is almost noon.” Arafinwë smiled beatifically, eyeing his brother curiously from head to toe.  “Everyone is already awake at this hour, dear brother.”

“And that means you already had breakfast.” Ñolofinwë smacked his hand when Arafinwë tried to reach for a small plate of a sliced honey cake. “I can practically smell the pastries on you. You cannot have more sweets until later, they will spoil your appetite.”

“Well, you smell of...sex.” And here Ñolofinwë almost choked on his glass of juice. “Retiring early because you had too much wine. You might have fooled Father and Mother with that, but you moved too swiftly and coordinated for someone who claimed to be tipsy.”

“That’s a low blow, coming even from you, Ara.” He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and discreetly sniffed it. He does not smell anything like ‘sex’; he made sure to scrub himself well with lightly scented deodorizing soap.

But Arafinwë still persisted, and leaned forward with an interested expression, “So how was it? Did she almost break your hips?”

“What?!” But his younger brother was quick to pounce, pushing Ñolofinwë back hard at the chair as he tried to unbutton his neck collar. Ñolofinwë didn’t see it coming, and tried to pry and bat his brother’s hands away. 

“Get off me! Stop!” He almost kicked him, but was able to successfully dislodge him-- just in time for Arafinwë to tear his collar wide open.

He made a soundless ‘O’ when he got a glimpse of several reddish-purple oval marks dotting his brother’s neck and collarbones before a reddened Ñolofinwë tugged his collar closed.

“You look like you have been mauled!” he exclaimed, as Ñolofinwë furiously buttoned his collar back up. “What is this woman made of?”

“Arafinwë!” Ñolofinwë glowered, straightening his robes. “Tell me what you know, now!”

“The tall lady with a red owl mask,” Arafinwë said, unruffled by his brother’s threat. Ñolofinwë felt his heart skip a beat. “I saw her during the ball, she seems to be in our brother’s company. I find it odd that he refused to give details as to who she was when father asked, because he spotted him dancing with her. Oh, and she seemed spooked when I noticed her, so I decided to follow.”

Ñolofinwë started to feel sweat bead on his forehead. “You followed her?”

“I am curious.” Arafinwë shrugged, “I saw her head towards the secret pathway that leads to your room.”

“Are you sure it was the pathway to my room?”

“Oh please, Ñolvo.” Arafinwë rolled his eyes, missing the way that Ñolofinwë slowly faceplanted on the table, burying his face on the folded napkins, as if he wanted them to swallow him up.  “Only the royal family knows the secret path from the gardens to your room, and it’s pretty well hidden. Who would wander that far to hide?”

“I can’t believe you.”

“You woke up late, slightly limping with a cushioned pillow on your chair, of course something happened.” His eyes brightened. “Yes, I saw that, brother.” Ñolofinwë made a rude gesture, but Arafinwë just chuckled softly, grabbing one of the extra glasses to serve himself some juice. “I dropped by early this morning and it turns out the guards received instructions that no one was to disturb you for the rest of the evening, and they heard the sounds. They said you were pretty loud.”

“Oh Eru...” Ñolofinwë buried his face in his hands.

“Don’t worry, I made them swear not to tell anyone.” Arafinwë patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. “But in exchange for the secrecy, you have to share the details. For you to limp, she must have ridden you pretty hard...or did she use toys on you?”

“Stop.” Ñolofinwë lifted a hand, while the other palm still rested on his face. He could feel a migraine coming on. “Just stop talking. I am not going to tell you what happened in my bedroom last evening, and I also won’t question how you know...certain things.”

“Everyone knows about the restricted section in the library,” Arafinwë replied, and Ñolofinwë drew back his plate, just before he could steal a piece of his cake. “But at least tell me what she was like.”

“She is tall and...she has a pert bottom.” Ñolofinwë made a face, feeling awkward at having to describe it through another's perception. “Wavy...hair. Long and toned legs.”

“Not that, Ñolvo,” Arafinwë said, and Ñolofinwë glared at him, “the _other_ details. You don’t want to tell me what happened, but surely you could tell me what she was like with you.”

“And then you leave the subject alone?” Ñolofinwë viciously stabbed some cake with his fork and popped it in his mouth, making sure the plate was far from his brother’s reach before he started slicing the rest of his food, some venison and vegetables.

Arafinwë nodded.

“Well...” He munched at his food, trying to come up with something. “She was full...of fire, and unexpected surprises.” His eyes narrowed at his brother, slowly grinning. “She was stubborn and insisted that she could take on my long sword in different ways.”

Arafinwë’s face scrunched. “I don’t need the imagery of how you wield your sword, thanks.”

“And yet, you want to know how she rode me.”

“Yes, But I don’t want to hear about _yours_.”

“You’re just jealous since mine is longer.”

“I will grow as tall as you someday, you know. It will also grow,” Arafinwë retorted, and was confused briefly at the train of their conversation. Ñolofinwë took the distraction as an opportunity to ask.

“Nevermind, you mentioned you saw Fëanáro last evening. Have you seen him today?”

“Yes, he almost ran late for a private meeting with father.” He plopped back into the chair, huffing. “You know how he is when Curufinwë is around, I never saw him so worried. I heard he got into a minor mishap on the way here, which is why he was late, at least that’s what I heard.”

Arafinwë prefer to address Fëanáro using his other name, to underline their brotherhood, something Ñolofinwë didn’t bother asking about or correcting it. “What accident?”

“He slipped while trying to mount a horse. It seems a ridiculous excuse, even coming from him.” Ñolofinwë handed him a tea biscuit, which he accepted begrudgingly “--but he looked genuinely uncomfortable; his gait was stiff. When father hugged him, he flinched like something hurt.”

Ñolofinwë was smiling as he sipped from his glass of tea. Arafinwë noticed. “I am sure you would have loved to see that.”

“And record it on paper if I have a swift hand,” he agreed, finally reaching for his dessert. “What were you doing snooping around there anyway?”

“I was looking for pigeons, they happen to flock around the area.” Arafinwë shrugged, giving up on the pastry, and just settled on the tray of biscuits that Ñolofinwë nudged in his direction. “I have plenty of free time for the rest of the week, just like you.” 

“Hmm...”

“Though...” he paused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “A lady that tall and tightly built? I think I would have ended up sore from the waist down!”

Ñolofinwë flicked a berry from his cake at his brother. “I will make sure not only your hips will break if we continue to discuss what happened in my bedroom last evening!”

“Well--” Arafinwë said, brushing the mess from the golden waves of his hair, “I can only hope for a coming of age as memorable as yours. Maybe I should search for this mysterious paramour.”

Ñolofinwë feel his cheeks heat. “NO. Also, she is not my paramour!”

“Spoilsport. Maybe I should ask our _oldest_ brother then. He got to dance with her.”

“NO.” Ñolofinwë firmly repeated, finishing his dessert, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.  “What made you think he would even entertain your question; he does not even look twice in my direction when he visits father.”

“I don't get into arguments with him for one, _and_ he does sends us gifts from his travels,” Arafinwë pointed out. “Even if he is doing it for Father's sake, it's at least something. I could personally thank him for his recent present, rather than send a messenger. That will be a good start.” Ñolofinwë was starting to color, and he took a couple of quick gulps of water, which silently amused him. “You could come with me, brother,  if it makes you feel more at ease.”

“Damn right, I will be coming with you,” Ñolofinwë grumbled. “What present did he give you?”

“A necklace of gold, pearls, and turquoise; it suits me well. Why?”

“Nothing, I’m just curious.” Ñolofinwë replied, trying to be calm. _Except he also gave me a similar pearl necklace shortly before we started our relationship,_ he thought worriedly. He hoped that Fëanáro just happened to make a similar pattern for his younger brother without any intentions--- but Arafinwë was more androgynous and willowy in appearance. He would grow to be far more attractive once he also reached his majority and Ñolofinwë couldn’t help but be worried for his younger brother’s more submissive and conceding nature--he hardly ever gets ruffled and easily weathers their oldest brother’s tempestuous moods, something Ñolofinwë has had a hard time doing. That would be something Fëanáro would find a challenge to break.

And then it’s just his luck that his curious younger brother also wants to pursue his ‘mysterious paramour’.

Ñolofinwë buried his face in his palms again. He will need to have a long and private talk with Fëanáro.

  
  
~ Fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference for Arafinwë’s necklace:  
> https://ak1.ostkcdn.com/images/products/5960679/5960679/Cotton-Rope-Turquoise-Teardrop-and-Pearl-Necklace-6-8-mm-Thailand-P13656373.jpg
> 
> Whether Fëanáro is also trying to pull some moves to his other brother is open to interpretation. This would be explained on the next arc of the series.
> 
> I am planning to make 2 more short arcs for this ‘verse (hopefully less chapters each ^^;) which will be basically Ñolofinwë having fun exploring his ‘kinks’ and resolving some situations in the story.
> 
> I hope some of you guys would stay for it :3


End file.
